


Happy Birthday, you ice cold prick.

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Birthday, Drinking, Fireworks, Flirting, Ice knows what he wants, Kissing, Letters, M/M, New Years Eve, Pre-film, Tongues, present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: December 31st 1985: Kazansky’s birthday.He clutched an unopened Top Gun acceptance letter in one hand and is taunted over a mysterious gift in the other.He’ll thank Slider, the best way he can.





	Happy Birthday, you ice cold prick.

They had been docked back on shore about a month and were sharing a small place down by the San Diego Marina. December 20th was when the letter finally came. Slider wouldn’t be back from his parents until December 27th, so Iceman decided to wait. They both agreed to wait until his birthday, December 31st, to find out whether or not they had been accepted.

It didn’t stop Iceman from pacing a hell of a lot, the notion of his first rejection weighed heavily on his shoulders. Even on Christmas Day, a little part of him was still sick to his stomach about whether he really was good enough, whether he really could be ‘ _the best of the best_ ’, whether or not the two of them deserved it.

He ended his Christmas alone with a bottle of Vodka and a toast to ‘hell yeah, did they deserve it.’ 

* * *

“Happy Birthday, you ice cold prick.”

New Years Eve, 1985. Iceman and Slider slid into a poorly lit booth in the back of the Miramar Officer’s club, Iceman had a gut feeling that they’d quickly take a liking to the place.

Iceman beamed. He laughed into his shot glass with a slightly coughed ‘thanks’ dropping from his plush lips.

Slider slid a small, thin black box towards him, making a note of the glint in his eyes, the grin that threatened to warm his icy façade. Even in the dim of the club, Iceman still seemed to be showing some emotion. That was a refreshing and unnerving thought.

“What the hell did you do?” Iceman’s tone was probably meant to be more accusing than what it ended up being.

Slider couldn’t suppress his laugh.

“What do you want to open first, the acceptance letter or your gift?”

Iceman’s hazel eyes dropped back down to the table, to Slider’s fingers resting on a slick, black box.

“It’ll drive me crazy if we wring in the New Year not knowing.”

Iceman’s tanned arm shot forward, took hold of his envelope. He worried it about in his hands for a moment. Angling his head up to Slider, who laughed as ‘pussy’ dropped from his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Right back at ya, Birthday Boy.”

Iceman couldn’t suppress his grin.

Together they finally put an end to Iceman’s lonesome week of nightly torture. He smiled, full of teeth before a smirk settled across his face. That was enough of a tell. They _did_ deserve this.

They would stop at nothing to get that trophy.

“Congratulatory shot, Ice?” Slider winked, already sure of the answer.

“Shot.” He agreed, with a faint blush sweeping his cheeks. Iceman blamed it on the flush alcohol was bringing him, he couldn’t avoid it and was no longer embarrassed for Slider to see it.

This time, Iceman didn’t flinch. Slider decided, he’d finally calmed his nerves. Now he could embarrass the hell out of him with his gift. Or rather, Kazansky wouldn’t be able to comprehend his gift, leave Slider grinning like a loon whilst he tried to get his icy apathy in order.

“I’ll try again, _Happy 25th Birthday_ , you arrogant mother fucker.” Slider spat, in a mocking tone.

Iceman’s eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips as he clutched the black box laying before him. He looked to the box then up at Slider’s face, then back to the box. The man wasn’t showing any signs that told him to be cautious, so Iceman opened it.

Iceman was momentarily stunned. He took another shot.

”Hey, hey man. Go easy on that. We’ve got all night.”

“Shooters. Ray-Ban—“ Iceman, still stunned, was interrupted.

“—RB-3138, classic gold trim with green lenses that scream _I’m a cocky, stuck up, no- nonsense, no bullshit fighter pilot._ I know, I bought you them.” Then, in a less mocking tone Slider continued, “I take it, you like ‘em then?”

Iceman still looked surprised, his mouth was moving although no sound came out. Slider could tell that he was pissed the alcohol was giving him emotion. Oh well.

“How did you.. when did you even..” Iceman trailed off and looked away from him, “I didn’t even realise you saw me looking at these in the store.”

He was inspecting his shades. One deft finger traced the golden frame, which glinted when they hit the light.

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.”

Iceman nearly dropped his shades. He figured that wasn’t an insult. He parted his lips, his eyes were heavily lidded.

“Is that, _so_.” Iceman’s voice dropped low, husky and full of trouble.

“Fuck Ice, I didn’t-“

“-Yeah you did.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re _hot_.”

Slider looked away, trying to ignore that flush in Iceman’s face. The one that highlighted his chiselled cheekbones with such an adorable tint.

“C’mon Kerner, I’m _not drunk_. It’s my _birth_ -day. At least let me thank you for getting us into Top Gun…” It took Slider a moment to detangle Iceman’s near slur, he was always a coherent drunk.

Their eyes finally met. Iceman set his shades down atop the table and licked his lips.

“Neither of us want to be here when the clock strikes midnight. Too many pilots sucking the faces of short skirts, long legs. Not the sort of show a man likes on his _birth_ -day.” Iceman grinned again, full of cockiness, asserting his dominance.

“You’ve never seen that many women with tongues down their throats in your life, Ice.”

“Why would I want too?” He grinned again, face full with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The alcohol, that look was definitely the alcohol. Not that Slider didn’t enjoy it.

Slider relented. He picked up their tab and helped Iceman stumble his way out. It was a graceful stumble, somehow. 

* * *

They were heading back to their place, knowing the clock would strike midnight in an instant.

Moonlight beamed down around them, only to be interrupted by the little bonfire on the beach. There was a crowd gathering, a fireworks display was imminent.

They rounded a corner, as the countdown began:

**10…9…8…**

Iceman laughed, his knee jutted in between Slider’s thighs. Iceman was a handsy drunk, not that Slider was complaining in that moment. Iceman stumbled forward slightly, the vodka whirled about his brain, he set his palm’s across Slider’s rock hard pecs.

“Guess you got whatcha wanted huh, Kazansky?”

Iceman tugged him down, one hand fisted his hair while the other clutched at his whites. Iceman shoved his tongue in Slider’s mouth, twisting and turning, without mercy. At that moment the sounds of cheers and screams filled the air, barely competing with the raging firework display just a few metres away.

Jets of bright lights arched above them, sparks lit up the night sky.

Slider pulled away, panting slightly. Iceman chuckled at the flush in his face.

“Not yet, Kerner. Happy new year, you hunky bastard.”

Slider rolled his eyes. He knew the hungry look in those hazel eyes, the taunting purse of those plush lips. He relented, with a sigh.

“Happy new year, you greedy fag.” 

* * *

Their night was far from over, Iceman still had to _thank_ him.


End file.
